Romance-sweet

Brie’s toes curled as she stretched, then hunkered down under the inviting sheets of her bed and closed her eyes. She could not release the image of Shade and her mind gave way to espresso rich imaginings, hot and fresh, roasting her as they enveloped each other and lay down in soft white sand. His exquisite hands traveled her nude form inch by daring inch, across her thighs, over her warm skin. Tanned fingers traced the bone of her pelvis, nipping teeth followed. She gasped. Seeking lips nibbled her Venus mound focusing on her pulsing need, suckling her. His tongue danced along her nerves, fire turned to starlight, then brilliant sun, which beat down on her alabaster torso. Perspiration drenched her and him, the Amazon flowing from every pore, the Nile pouring between her thighs. She cried out his name as the wave crashed and rolled, forced her awake.
Brie bolted upright, gasping as the final throes of an incredible orgasm drifted away leaving her startled, sated, wanting more. Her heart slowed its ragged pounding and she realized her bedclothes were gone, crumpled lumps on the floor by the bed. She touched the moist remains of sweat and sexual aftermath drenching her sheets.
 What am I going to do? Sinking her head in her hands, the length of her hair covered her face, providing her shelter.
Her obsession with the beautiful stranger, whom she somehow knew without knowing, escaped the boundaries she wanted to establish. She was out of sorts, undone by her longing for him. There was no choice but to make a concerted effort to stay away from him for a while, to shut down her senses until she could maintain a modicum of decorum when near him. If she did not she would wind up making a complete idiot of herself.
Sleep demanded her return and she moved away from the damp side of the bed. The rumpled flat sheet cascaded to the floor. Too hot to put her pajamas on she lay back, fell asleep and barely awakened in time to get ready for work.
 

Kalorda was the only thing that she could think of when she looked at that magnificent beast in her recordings. The fur, the fangs and the intelligence in those huge silver eyes.

If he was a shifter trapped in his feline body, it would explain the tiny electrodes that were visible on her scans. Someone had locked him into his shifted shape and sold him to a certain death on Endin.

She set her alarm and prepared her hunt garb for the morning. She also packed a med kit and as much higher-tech healing units as she could fit in it. Rations, maps and water locations are all readied and she quickly let herself sleep for a precious two hours.

She woke easily, years of training in action. She dressed, booted and geared herself up, creeping along the walls and slipping due east.

Ashlin ran through the woods and let her true nature show. Her nails lengthened to claws, her teeth sharpened, ears grew more pointed and nose grew wider to increase sensitivity. She tore at the back of her trousers to remove the basting stitch her mother put in place every time Ashlin hunted.

Her tail was long and helped her balance on the long jumps across brooks, her eyes let her see in the dark and the claws braced her on every curve. She twitched her whiskers in anticipation of the incoming male. If the beast was smart, he would follow her.

A bubbling laugh escaped from behind her teeth as she ripped through the pre-dawn forest. In a sense, the folk of Endin were soon to be hunting her.

Running full out in the dark was dangerous, but with her senses turned up to the maximum, she was miles away from the city by dawn. She paused in the reddish light to drink her fill at one of the many streams, then settled back against a rock with her senses wide. Every tiny motion in the woods would register in her ears, her whiskers catching every vibration.

Two hours later, she jolted awake. Something was approaching rapidly and it was moving at a speed far beyond that of an Endin.

Flat paws were thudding against the loam of the forest floor and she waited quietly, hiding in the shadows until the beast ran past her, stopped and returned to her.

Grinning, Cila walked to her quarters and noted that her bags were missing. What?

“I took your satchels to the ship and stowed them. We are ready to leave anytime.” Arkhov gestured for her to precede him.

The hooks on his inner wrists were obvious, but she ignored them and led the way back to his ship. If he wasn’t going to mention them, she wasn’t going to mention them. She had no idea of his species, but it was closely related to the Azon with something spiky thrown in.

She stopped at the exterior hatch. It wasn’t yet keyed to her bio print, so she had to wait for Ripper.

He pressed his hand to the pad, the claws on the tips of his fingers clicking lightly against the plate. “I will get you registered for entry to the ship. Just take a seat at the control panel and I will be with you as soon as I seal the hatch.”

Cila walked into the huge, open space and raised an eyebrow at the small bulkheads that delineated the areas that could hold cargo, the tiny dining area as well as wide bunks that folded up against the wall. She gave a mental snort as she took in enough living and running-around space to fill the tiny relay station. This was more space than she had ever had to herself or even to share with one person than had ever been at her disposal.

“Do you like it?”

She turned to face Arkhov and he was inches from her. Waves of heat were coming from him and she held her breath when his scent started to spike her attention. She backed up half a step and signed. Wow, lots of space.

“The Sector Guard gets to do shakedowns of quite a few new designs for spacecraft. It’s one of the perks.”

You get to fly around in untested ships?

“More or less. They are tested by our technicians and inventors and then we are given the go ahead to fly them on assignment. You will be meeting with Fixer. She and Beast have crafted this particular ship with his wingspan in mind.”

Will I meet them?

“Fixer, most certainly. She will be on the team trying to help you gain control over this mysterious talent of yours.”

She smiled, twisting her lips to one side. There is no mystery. I emanate concussive sonic force. I can do it with my body, but my voice is my most powerful outlet.

He laughed. “As are the voices of most of the women of the Sector Guard, mind you, most of them could not shatter bone with a simple whisper.”

“Hello, lady.”

Heart in her throat, Sapphire spun around at the sound of the deep voice. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t sure if it was the poison in her system or if she was just struck dumb by the sight of the male standing before her.

He was beautiful…and large. He stood a good six and a half feet tall, his blond hair brushing his shoulders. His black vest barley covered his wide, muscular chest and did nothing to cover the light swirls of chest hair as it swirled and dipped below the wide leather belt at his waist.

Green eyes similar in color to her sister, Emerald’s, stared down at her with the most mischievous-looking twinkle she’d ever seen. Arms as big as tree limbs crossed his chest.

As he stood examining her, she couldn’t help but notice he had markings similar to hers.

“Hello,” Sapphire replied warily. “Do you know how I can contact Galen?”

The man held his hands out to his sides and grinned. “Why would you search out another male, when you have one so handy already?” He waggled his brows. “Believe me when I say I would service you in any way you need, lady.”

“I need a healer.” Her vision blurred and she felt her body give way to a bout of the cold sweats. Swiping her arm across her brow, she began to pant. Flipping her hair back over her shoulder, she raised a hand to her wound and pointed. “I’ve been shot with an arrow tipped with poison. I must see him immediately.”

“Let me help you, lady.” The suddenly serious male stepped forward and made to take her in his arms.

Sapphire stepped back with a snarl, her scowl fierce. She may be injured, but she was still well enough to fight if this male attempted to kidnap her for his own. She would be no man’s possession. Lifting her chin, she stubbornly stared him down. “I will allow only Galen to touch me.”

Smiling, the man shook his head. “I am not certain how I have garnered such trust in one I have never met, but I thank you, lady.” He bowed with a flourish. “I am Galen, at your service. Now…will you allow me to help you before you collapse, or shall I wait until you do so?”

“No one told me you were a tease.”

“The Sector Guard can offer you adventure.”

She smirked. “Not interested.”

“Travel.”

“I can travel as much as I wish to.”

He dragged in a deep breath. “You will have the opportunity to help folk in dire situations and under incredible stresses. Guardsmen need a counsellor more than anyone can know. We face death, violence, the most heinous situations as well as the burden of arriving too late.”

She leaned back and put her arms on the chair, her party gown flowing around her in soft gold folds that matched her eyes. “You have caught my interest. Go on. What can I do for the Guard?”

“Well, let me state first that I am a Contract specialist. Every legal precedent in the Alliance and Nyal space is within my mind and I can create an airtight agreement that even light cannot escape from.”

Sekhara tilted her head at the Wyoran with the hypnotic voice. “I see. Now, why me and not one of the plethora of other telepaths out there? And, do you really intend to legally trap me?”

“You have an ability to make contact with anyone based on their cranial scans, at immeasurable distances.” His blue eyes seemed to grow larger and she could feel the push of his talent against her.

She quirked her lips, “That is classified information.”

“And as a member of the Sector Guard, you will be in a position to use your talents to the fullest extent, every day. They need you. We need you.” His tone rang with determination and sincerity.

“What about our personal interaction? Even Altius and Effin have told me that there is an expectation of bonding between partners. Physical bonding. Where do we stand on that?” She put an expectant look on her face and waited.

Contract swallowed and looked sheepish. “It would be nice to have a Wyoran woman with me and I promise to be a sensitive and careful lover and to do my best as a partner. I will back you up when needed and stand aside when you don’t.”

“That seems awfully passive for a man with your reputation, Contract. Criton Ethyn was quite the ladies’ man around the hub before he left for his new career in the stars. I have heard tales of debauchery, bondage and any number of group activities of a sexual nature. It is amazing how a man can change when he realizes his choices of life partner are limited.”

His mouth opened and closed, the cords of his neck flexed as he struggled to breathe. “How do you know all that?”

She quirked her lips. “Effin Nywyn, husband of Relay, is the cousin of Altius, our host, tonight, who is the brother of my employer, Sahvahn Nywyn. They did the research long before they let you find me tonight.”

The door to the study flew open and a creature bounded in, wriggling with delight as it sat next to Sekhara’s chair.

“Hello, Maxi. How are you today?”

Criton was looking at the beast warily. “You have a nylander?”

“Ledara gave me one of the kits when Maxi was born. Six months later and she is ready to leave her mother. Is there room on your shuttle for her?” Sekhara reached out and stroked the snow-white fur on her new pet. The mental link between them snapped into being and strengthened as the Wyoran let her mind touch the beast’s. A centre of calm rippled into her from Maxi.

“Room on my shuttle? You agree?”

“Let’s return to the party and have a nice time. You can meet me at my office tomorrow and we will discuss the finer points of the contract.”

He cautioned her. “You will have to apply to let the nylander leave Wyora.”

She grinned as she stood and walked to the door with Maxi at her side. “I already have.”

Neva shooed her charges down into the emergency hatch. With a string tied to the door, she tugged it open as she lowered the hatch door and moved the rug to cover it. Peeking through the one-inch opening, she charged the strand with the brittleness of ice and jerked hard.

As it shattered, she lowered herself down into the underground tunnel and looked at the best and brightest that the Citadel had to offer. "Okay, ladies, we are going out that door and into the forest. Keep silent and calm and we will be fine."

Sterla tugged at the door and scowled. "Winder Neva, this door is sealed shut."

A cold chill ran through her, but Neva moved toward the door. Sure enough, a synthetic welding substance was trailed around the doorframe and firmly held the door in place. "Stand back. This will take some practicing."

She took a thread from the reels at her waist and tied a knot in one end. Focussing the sputtering talent that had cursed her her entire life, she started to spin the thread faster and faster, imbuing it with an acidic temperament and stepping forward. The whirling thread ate into the door, creating a hole that was large enough for them to crawl through.

She discharged the characteristics she had imbued into the thread, snapped the used area off and dropped it to the floor.

"Please come this way. I will seal the door behind us. Get to the other end of the tunnel and wait for me. I will be right behind you."

Geli looked up at her with solid black eyes. "Are you certain?"

"I am certain. I will be right there." She watched as the Citadel apprentices crawled through the hole, one by one. Her hands were busy while they escaped the noises of the Raider attack. Neva wove a web of threads rapidly, using the hooks she had had implanted in her nail beds. With the loose fabric bunched in one hand, she crawled through the hole she had made. She turned and fastened the web to the interior of the hole and charged it with an electric shock strong enough to stun any of the races who were known the frequent the Raider clans.

She walked down the tunnel and found her students waiting for her. "Thank you for following instructions. The Raider warning came out nine minutes ago. If they land and come for the weaving house, they will find the door open and no one in it. Whoever sealed the door will lead them to the trapdoor and from there, they will find that we have escaped. Now, we have to remain at liberty long enough for help to come."

Geli swallowed and her tongue flicked out rapidly. "Do you think they will come in time to keep us from being taken?"

"I have no idea, but I do know that we have to fight." She looked over her six students and smiled grimly. "Now, stand aside so I can blow the door. If they are waiting for us on the other side, this is going to hurt."

 

“Okay, we need to hold up here for a minute and check this next rapid.” He hopped out and dragged the canoe ashore. “Look here,” he said. “See how the current goes straight, then turns almost ninety degrees to the right? We have to follow the current to a point, then go sideways and paddle like crazy to try to get beyond that big rock before we hit the bottom of that trough rolling back on itself. If we get caught there, it is a sure capsize. We can play it safe or go for it.”

“How do we play it safe?”

“We can portage around, a little more work, but no problem.”

That’s no fun, let’s go for it,” she exclaimed.

“Okay, but remember this is the last rapid before supper and the rest of the party is watching, hoping to see a big wash out.”

“Let’s give them a show, one way or the other.”

“Got to admire your guts; hope we pull this off. Here is the plan. We have to set up just right and start our turn at just the right time. See that little rock ledge at the water’s edge on the right side?”

“Yes.”

“We need to ride the current until the front end passes that ledge, and then start our turn. Too early and the nose will hit the wall on the right, spinning us around and over. Too late and we can’t get out soon enough. The instant you feel the back end start around, paddle for all you are worth; dig in and give it you all. Don’t stop for anything; keep paddling until we clear, or go over. Still want to try it?”

“Why not,” she replied while studying the water with the intensity of a race driver studying a new track.

“Well, here goes nothing,” he said as they shoved off. They lined up in the chute and rode the current. She felt the pull of the current, faster and more powerful than ever as they picked up speed. What did I get myself into this time? We are going to crash for sure. At the last minute, she remembered his instructions and snapped her mind back to the task at hand. Everything seemed to go into slow motion; the little ledge was there and she dug in to start their turn. The nose of the canoe missed the wall by the smallest of margins as they slid sideways to the current, toward the rolling trough. She saw him straining to paddle as she dug in to paddle as she had never paddled in her short, one-day canoeing career. The trough seemed to be ten feet deep as they slid closer and closer to the bottom. White water crashed down on her as they cleared the rock and hit smooth water.

With the intention of ignoring Helen, Andrew continued toward the door, but he was wrenched backwards. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Helen had grabbed Adoria’s upper arm and turned her around, pulling him backwards as well in the process. Adoria snapped something at her, and Helen raised her hand as if to slap her. With one hand, Adoria seized Helen’s elbow and pushed the producer to carry on with the momentum of her body, except, Adoria pulled backward and continued steering Helen’s arm until her hand connected with her own face in a loud slap.

The sound echoed in the hushed dining room, everyone stared at the two women, Adoria glaring at Helen, and the other woman holding her cheek, eyes brimming with tears of humiliation and anger.

“Now, this gives a new meaning to bitch slapping,” Andrew mumbled and snickered. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, he could still think clearly, he believed, but his actions went haywire. A few giggles sounded around them, as he, Adoria, and Steve walked away from a raging executive producer.

They stepped out into the night, the smog, for the first time, invigorated him, reducing his sickness and confusion. The downside to this change was that his senses were centered in his lower region. Adoria’s hips nudging his as they walked didn’t help matters any.

They reached the SUV, and Steve left his side to unlock the door, Andrew thought. He couldn’t take his closeness to Adoria anymore. He intended to move away from her, but instead he pushed her against the car, placed both hands on her waist and leaned into her, grinding that ache against her warm body.

“Andre—”

Desire, so long forgotten, hummed through him. Her breathing caught when he delicately touched her cheekbones and lips with his hand, his lips trailing his fingers’ path. They tasted her, teased her. He was driving himself insane, just as he did to her, for her body reacted to his touch, her breasts pushed against his chest in an inviting challenge.

Andrew, stop! You will ruin everything, Gruesome shouted in his head, but he ignored his Guide.

 

His demeanor softened at the sight of the tears and he ran his hands through his dark hair. “I don’t want to hurt you, okay. I don’t want anything to ever hurt you. It’s better this way.”

“Too late for that.” Now I was angry. What kind of cockamamie line was that? I don’t want anything to ever hurt you. “Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “Good luck with the pack. I’m sure that dead body won’t stir up any trouble.” Okay, yes, I know my dad had told me not to say anything, but if you recall, I already mentioned that my rational mind had taken a hike.

He froze. I mean, stopped breathing froze and stared at me, his mouth agape as if he wanted to say something, but had come down with a sudden case of laryngitis.

“Whatever.” I turned and walked away from him. He was still standing like that when I glanced back at him over my shoulder. Good. Served him right.

 

Molly picked up the video remote and aimed it at the screen, changing the feed to local breaking news stories.

The commentators were still talking about the attack in the mall with accompanying eCom recorded personal holo and security camera footage. The picture then switched to an on scene interview with someone identified as a major with the Athens Clark County police department. As the interview progressed, the camera suddenly shifted skyward.

It was odd seeing a video of me flying over the parking lot with the two Purists dangling from my talons. The microphone was sensitive enough to pick up the whoosh sound my wings made as I hovered and my yell down to the crowd. The video also caught the yells of the two when I dropped them down to the waiting officers.

Most of the conversation between me and the Major was drowned out by crowd and wind noise, thankfully, then suddenly the picture pulled back far enough to show me spreading my wings for takeoff. The picture froze with the caption Avenging Angel.

Molly muted the sound and turned back to Jacob.

“Your daughter did good, Jacob,” Molly said, looking down at Daddy.

Leaning forward, Tansy closed her eyes and, with an effort that looked painful, she held her wrists together, her hands arced out. Tansy’s lips moved, possibly in a silent prayer, just before she pushed a ball of concentrated energy at the driver through the thick wire divider.

The driver slumped forward, unconscious as the cab careened out of control toward the brick wall of a warehouse.

“Shit, shit, shit…” Rose closed her eyes and visualized the driver stomping on the brakes. The car skidded to a halt and the two women jumped out.

“Asshole!” Tansy ripped the driver’s door open, jammed the car into park, removed the driver’s seatbelt and dragged him from the car. “Get in,” she snarled in Rose’s direction. “We have to get out of here before someone finds us.”

Rose climbed into the vehicle more because she wanted to get away from the man who had kidnapped them than because she agreed with her sister. “Where to now?”

Tansy looked down at the gauges as she put the car in gear. “As far as three quarters of a tank of gas will take us, then we’ll catch a bus.”


Two hours and one flat tire later, they were walking. “I’m hungry.”

“Don’t whine to me about the state of your stomach, Tansy. This was your idea.”

“Yeah, but you’re older. You should have stopped me.”

Rose stopped walking to glare at her sister. “I’m older by months, Tansy, not years. That does not give me more experience. If it did, I would have known this harebrained scheme of yours would turn out badly.”

Tansy stuck her thumb out as a car approached. “I don’t care what you think about the perils of hitchhiking. I’m hitching a ride to the nearest restaurant.”

Rose shook her head and sighed. “Whatever. It’s not like you couldn’t use that weird energy thing on someone again.”

“I can’t. I can only use that about once every six hours, but that’s beside the point. I’m hungry and thirsty and my feet hurt.”

“Why do I always forget you’re the whiney sister until I go with some stupid plan of yours?” Rose shook her head. She almost laughed when the car sped past and Tansy stomped her foot like a frustrated child.

She didn’t laugh, however, when a long, sleek limo stopped and a door opened.

“Get in.”

“Uh, no thanks.” Tansy backed away.

“I thought you wanted a ride. You had your thumb out, didn’t you?” The man inside didn’t move to get out, nor did he attempt to coerce them into the vehicle any further.

“Well…yes. I did have my thumb out.”

“Then get in. I’m late for a meeting. I can’t sit here indefinitely.”

“I’m not sure about this, Tansy.” Rose grabbed her sister’s arm as she sighed and headed for the car.

Tansy turned around with a sigh. “You’re not sure about what? The man stopped because I had my thumb out.” She narrowed her eyes as if to say get in or you’re on the menu. I’m starved. “Get in. He’ll take us to town.”

“Which town would that be?” Rose asked as she climbed into the car behind her sister, the whole time telling herself you’re just too damned stupid to live, Rose. Or maybe that was Tansy. The jury was still out on that one.

 

Joseph Crawford stood in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge. He stared down at the water, across the snow-dusted tops of buildings at the childhood home he loved more than any other place on earth. The sounds of honking horns faded into the farthest reaches of his mind while dozens of events from his past flooded his memory.

This felt right.

He knew what he was doing.

He closed his eyes, spread his arms wide and leaned forward.

The wind whipped through his hair. He recalled riding in his father’s convertible to the Catskills when he was five years old.

His two daughters came to mind. Images of their younger years, giggling and laughing in the back yard by their swing set and the time they went sailing off the shores of the Hamptons in his boss’ boat.

Good times—each and every one.

As the breeze picked up, his arms and legs began to numb from the sting of ice hitting his cheeks. He saw Marge in her white dress, her blonde curly hair was longer then than it was now. God was she beautiful! They had a wonderful wedding. She wouldn’t like this, but he hoped she could forgive him. She would—eventually.

He opened his eyes to the blue water below, the world sped up and slowed to a halt all at once. No regrets.

Eyelids pressed tight, he felt a sudden jerk and all motion stopped. He never even felt the water or the cracking sensation as every bone in his body shattered, only a complete cessation of movement. In a split second, his life was over.
 

Kaylee turned and stopped dead. The words died on her lips as she saw her dream lover lying prone on the couch, his eyes open. He looked dead. She brought her hand to her throat, her fingers nervously tapping the side of her neck. He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be real. He was a vampire and vampires just didn’t exist.

What in the hell is going on here? She returned home to find someone molesting her things and a dead man on her couch. She turned toward the Christmas tree in the corner and frowned. She could have sworn she left the lights on and the music playing. The silence creeped her out, even when she didn’t have a burglar laying on her carpet, most likely peeing his pants from the fifty-thousand or so volts of electricity she’d just bagged him with.

Behind her, the robber’s phone played Jingle Bells as someone attempted to call him. They’d just have to call back later, preferably after the police dragged him out of her house.

Biting her bottom lip, Kaylee made her way over to the couch. Slowly, gingerly, she reached out to touch his cheek. She had to touch him at least once, even if he was dead. “You’re a dream. You can’t possibly be real,” she whispered.

I could think the same of you, my love.

Kaylee knew at that moment that he wasn’t dead. Somehow, he spoke into her mind the way he always did in her dreams. But why wouldn’t he move?

“Why do you look like a dead man sprawled across my couch?” She got the impression that he wanted to shrug, but was too weak to do so.

Why was he so weak? In her dreams, he could do anything. He could shift his shape into anything, he could fly, he even had preternatural speed, running so fast, he was nothing more than a blur.

I am dying. I haven’t fed in over three months. When one of my kind does this, we grow weaker and weaker until we finally collapse like this.

“Why would you choose to die on my couch?” She narrowed her eyes. “Am I even awake or is this all another dream?”

He chuckled into her mind, his voice growing weaker and weaker as though he kept getting farther and farther away. It took me quite by surprise. Believe me, had I known I had gotten so weak, I would have lain on my back and closed my eyes, instead of falling face first onto your couch. It’s not comfortable at all.

Kaylee finally realized this was nothing more than another dream. Her dreams always started with Gregori convincing her to let him feed. Only this was the first time he’d been too weak to take her in his arms and nuzzle her neck.

Shifting her weight to one leg, Kaylee rested her hand on her hip and smiled. “So…I suppose you expect me to feed you?”

I wish you were alive so you could. However, I saw your decapitated body myself. A gang of slayers found you, knew you were mine and took your life in an effort to stem our population. You are the dream, my love. He smiled gently into her mind. Like all of the dreams I have had of you over the last year. They were nothing but visions of a lost love, the wishful ramblings of a desperate man.

“Unless you received a memo I missed, we aren’t dead.” She gestured to the man lying unconscious on the floor. “Do you really think ghosts Taser people?”

I assume that we are both dead. I have starved to death as was my plan. Life without you is unbearable.

That was the most romantic and idiotic thing anyone had ever said to her. Kaylee heard a bump coming from the stairs, assumed it was the other burglar and continued through their mind link. Oh, puhleeeze. You have somehow managed to convince me to feed you in every dream. Why should this one be any different? Besides, what if this was the last time she dreamt of him? Death was rather permanent, even in dreams.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes! Yes!” Zohak screamed.

The Goddess was inches away now. Zohak was surprised to feel the deep fear struggle violently to the surface. He thrust his hands out, warding her away, his face a mask of fear, but it was too late. He couldn’t move.

She bent her head and kissed his right shoulder with unseen lips. Tiny fangs pierced his skin. They were scalding hot, like fire. Zohak shuddered with pleasure. She kissed his left shoulder, tiny fangs again piercing his skin. Zohak felt the most wondrous waves of power shoot through him. He felt like a god!

Then Zohak screamed and screamed. He fell to his knees, screaming. And all the while, his head rang with the sharp, measured sound of iron striking iron. The sound rolled through him, tearing at him, tearing at his sanity like a raging river. The awful clanging mingled with his pain, producing a fear inside him unlike any he had ever experienced. He screamed until the blood dripped out of his mouth and nose. He felt the most awful sense of shame and violation that he had ever known. The pain persisted like fire, with unbearable intensity. The Goddess behind him laughed. The thick air was foul with the scent of rotting corpses and vile things.

“What have you done? What have you done?” Zohak screamed at the presence, hating it with all the intensity of his pain. He could not hear his own words for the awful clanging in his head. The measured tones fell with inexorable precision. Zohak fell to the floor, clutching his shoulders as more unbearable pain centralized there. Under the palms of his hands, he felt his shoulders swelling. He felt something smooth push against the palms of his hands.

“What…what’s happening to me? What? Ahh!”

Zohak screamed again, but his voice was horrible to hear. The weak, rasping croak was a parody of his normal clear voice. He took his hands away, but he could feel the things growing. A hungry hissing filled the chamber, and the clanging died away. Zohak strained to hear it, but the hissing was now dominant.

“No! No!” Zohak sobbed, wishing this were a dream.

The chamber was in blackness again. Zohak stumbled over to his room, and fumbled for the lamp. He somehow got the thing lit. Blinded by tears, he blundered into his bedroom. The light from the lamp seemed to be swallowed up by the utter darkness around him. He froze before the mirror, shaking his head in denial. Through his tears, he saw the sleek black shapes weaving in the air above his head. Their scales glinted in the yellow light as they undulated ceaselessly in a way that was sensual, but at the same time unspeakably horrible.

The one on his right shoulder dipped and flicked his damp hair with its red, forked tongue. The copper eyes of both snakes regarded Zohak with steady malevolent intelligence through the mirror.

 

The drip, drip, drip of water cut through the air. Each drip reverberated in his head. Zohak opened his eyes slowly. At least the clanging hadn’t started. His limbs were heavy. He tried to speak, but only a low moan escaped his lips. He thrashed his head and moaned louder. He saw the figure in the doorway. It was dark, but rays of light made a fiery backdrop. He moaned again and tried in vain to move. The figure casually set a huge mace down and pulled a wicked-looking knife out of its sheath. Zohak recognized it as the knife belonging to his foster father, Melik of the Stout Ribs. He had given it to Zohak just before he was murdered.

The man’s face was visible now. It was Atar the Idiot, his half-brother, and the real heir to the throne. Zohak wanted to plead with him. Atar’s face was impassive. All of its anger was gone. He pulled off the covers to reveal Zohak’s naked body and then, as if working with a deer carcass, he began to flay Zohak. Unable to scream, Zohak moaned in torment and terror.

Instead of the torment ending in death, he was roughly dragged out of his bloody bed and it was then that the clanging began. The dragon snakes were already writhing in agony with their master, but now their frantic movements maddened him.

Clang, clang, clang!

Another figure appeared at the door. He was a huge man—yes, it was the blacksmith Kava. He was carrying iron chains. He took these and wrapped them around Zohak’s burning body and they made his flesh sizzle like roasting meat. Zohak was overwhelmed with the horrifying odor of his own burning flesh. The blacksmith eyed Zohak for a moment then reached back to something he’d set on the floor. He put an ox yoke on Zohak’s neck.

Zohak could see the agony in the man’s mind. He saw the blacksmith’s daughter, the one his dragon snakes had eaten. His skinless body burned at the memory. He could see and feel the agony of every person he’d fed to his snakes. In response, the snakes vomited a vile-smelling substance that tortured him as it spilled over his exposed flesh.

The men were making him walk. They moved on and on until they reached a mountain that looked horribly black. They led him into a cave deep in the mountain. The blacksmith held a hammer in one hand and a long iron spike in the other. He was unable to move as the man hammered the spikes into his body, pinning him into the rock. Zohak realized that the man was being careful not to harm his vital organs.

The two men left him in the darkness and suddenly Zohak found his voice.

Zohak’s screaming brought the guards, his viziers, and even his wife, Jahi the Lovely. “Bring the astrologers and magicians,” he croaked.

His hair was in disarray and he hadn’t changed his bedclothes. Urine soaked the front and back of his robe, but Zohak didn’t care.

“So what does this dream mean?”

“We cannot be certain…”

“It can mean several things. Perhaps not all bad,” another astrologer said.

“Guards!” Zohak roared. “Prepare to have these men all flayed alive. They are hiding the truth for fear.”

An old astrologer, the chief, stood. “I will tell you. The reason we hesitate is that there is no good news. The dream means this: Everyman is born not for his parents, but as a tithe for death. No person—not even the highest king, can escape death. It means too, that your evil deeds have earned you a terrible reward. The man they call the ‘Firestarter’ will come back and he will destroy you. The blacksmith of your dream represents the many people you have killed to satisfy the greed of your snakes. Because of that greed, people have risen against you. You cannot escape your destiny, which is endless suffering as an eternal captive in Mount Damavand. The iron with which they bound you represents good over evil. The blacksmith works with iron. Iron represents forces that work against demons. It means, in short, that you are now not a man, but a demon. For you, death would be a blessing.”

“How long have you been watching me?”

She raised her chin. “What makes you think you are so important that I’d waste my time watching barbarians trying to kill one another with swords?”

Connal grinned. “Oh aye? This is our exercise. A sport. Men enjoy such.”

“Only you could consider it a sport.”

“And women enjoy watching it, too, judging by the look of you. Am I correct?”

“No,” Liandra said, indignantly.

“Then what were you doing standing there open-mouthed, if not enjoying? What I saw on your face demands clarification.”

“There’s a difference between observing and enjoying.”

He raised a disbelieving brow. “Truly? One day you must explain such distinctions.”

“A barbarian could not grasp the subtleties between the two.”

Connal grinned. Curling a finger under her chin, he raised her face. “I am not a barbarian, Liandra. Have I not proven that to you, yet?”

His voice had taken on that husky, seductive timbre, and as always at its sound, she felt her body pulse. Her heart thudded against her ribs. So close, Connal’s naked chest, his flushed skin glistening with perspiration, instead of feeling disgust at such a disheveled state, her nerve endings spiraled into her core, tightening and warming.

Her eyes lifted to a safer height. Or so she thought. His hair was tied back severely from his face, yet tendrils had escaped to curl against his brow and cheeks, giving him a roguish appearance. A barbarian rogue—that was what he was. Liandra smiled.

“I like not that smile of yours. It bodes ill for any man. And me in particular, I think.” Laughing gently, he stepped closer.

Liandra swallowed against the tight dryness in her throat as his musky male scent washed over her.

 

Zeyan’s head still ached and her skin was too tight, but the healer’s pain was far more obvious than hers was. She moved to help the woman as the healer struggled to stay upright.

They moved together and exited the shuttle.

The sunset was just taking hold and there was a peace that ran through the very air.

Three figures in robes approached them and asked Fury, “What happened?”

“The healer made contact with your new student and collapsed.” Fury handed her over.

The contact healer tried to smile. “It was more than I expected.”

Zeyan was embarrassed. “I am sorry. I have never done anything of that nature before.”

One of the robed figures, a male with wavy blond hair and pointed ears, smiled at her, gently taking her arm and leading her toward the doors. “What did you do, my dear?”

“Her touch was looking for pain, so I gave it all to her. I didn’t know she wasn’t prepared for it, so I took it back, but it was too late.” She could feel the blush as they stared at her.

The healer nodded. “It was more than I was braced for, but if you walk around with that all day, you are definitely in the correct place.”

Her companion helped her to the interior of the building and Zeyan was left with the Guardsmen and the two other robed figures.

She didn’t know what to do, but when she felt a touch on her mind, she straightened and slammed it back at its owner. The woman on the end swayed and blinked rapidly. “That was sudden.”

“I am not used to…why are you trying to touch my mind?”

The male with the pointed ears smiled. “We are merely trying to determine the nature of your gifts.”

She crossed her arms and scowled. “Fine, take me to a dead body and I will show you.”

Tracker continued his determined stride until they were actually inside the shuttle and he sealed it before he released her. “I apologize, but he wasn’t going to let you pass. Therin was on his way.”

She froze in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“I am a Tracker. Once I attach to a target, I keep it on my sensory web.” He gestured to the navigator station. “Please have a seat. We will get under way as soon as we can get clearance.”

Bren quickly strapped in and waited, facing the most technology she had ever seen. Everything was so shiny and bright. The ship was as new as the section of the Alliance that had spawned it.

The Sector Guard had been in operation less than two years, but already, they had saved lives that numbered in the billions. Entire planets had benefited from their existence and a few species even had collector items based around their own Guardsman.

Bren had seen the figures and holograms in the local markets as well as with younger travellers who were passing through. “Where is your partner?”

Tracker’s voice was a little surprised. “I don’t have one. Why?”

“I thought all of the Guardsmen were in teams.”

“No. Not yet. We all find our partners when the time is right.” Tracker’s voice was amused. He slid into the pilot’s seat and arranged for clearance.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. It is a common question.”

The magnetic lifts gripped the shuttle and moved them into the launch area. Bren couldn’t believe it. She was actually going to fly through space.

 

Iris rode Teddi up to the gates of the Citadel outpost Keroa. The two men on guard in their smoke grey and black robes greeted her. “Welcome, traveller. How may we help you?”

She dismounted from her rhesh and looked at them in turn. “I understand that someone at the Citadel has been looking for a morinial. I decided to audition for the position.”

One of the men stepped forward and held out his hand, palm up. “Allow me to lead you inside, candidate.”

“And read my talent at the same time? Certainly. Take my hand, Teller, and determine if I am a freak by Keroa standards.” She put one hand out and kept her other on the reins.

“Harvin will take your rhesh for you and get it something to eat.” The other guard took Teddi and led him into the compound. The gates shut and locked with their guards inside.

Iris was inside the Citadel and she had to find out why folk were looking for her. In her eleven years as an active talent, or morinial, no one had ever come looking for her for anything other than her skill as hunter. Some days, anything new was interesting.

The outpost was small, it held twenty members of the Citadel who involved themselves with the community and used Keroa to propel themselves to the outer planets of the system.

Few Keroans had ever been inside the buildings, so it was fascinating to see them up close.

The guard who had a grip on her hand suddenly looked nervous. She came to the awareness that he had just determined her talent.

“Don’t worry. I have not accidentally discharged my blades in almost a decade.” She chuckled at his small sigh of relief.

“Thank you. When awareness of your talent struck, I was pointedly focused on where your hand was.”

Iris almost hooted with laughter, but she restrained it to a light snigger.

They passed into the main building and the guard took her to an office. He knocked on the door. “Administrator. There is someone here to see you.”

“Come in.”

The guard left her with a bow and she opened the door in front of her. Two creatures were inside and since Iris had never seen an alien before, she had to guess at what they were based on Alliance information streams.

Two men turned to her, one crimson and one bronze, both with savage features. She grinned at them and inclined her head. “Gentlemen, I believe that I am the morinial you are looking for.”